Charged neurons ignite my primitive brain now,
in defense of other, blood-bonded numbers:four children, two grandchildren,
whose futures collide with this cascading math,
math that falls from the skies, storms the ground and the seas.

I inhale slowly and wonder if there is an algorithm
to bend the arc of civilization just enough,
taking us through this narrow fissure of possibility.
I exhale, push the weight of despair aside for a moment, ask myself,
can we unleash beautiful fractals of empathy,
and solve the puzzle before us, with the shimmering power of will?